Potential
by GentilleRemus
Summary: Little Dawnie's all growed up and living in CNY, but past memories continue to haunt her. Will they become more real than she thinks? Based on Potential
1. Last time on Buffy

A/N: Hey guys! Alright, this is my first ever Buffy fanfic, so bear with me here. I'm not a huge fan of Dawn/Xander ships, but after I saw the Season 7 episode "Potential" (which is, by the way, my entire inspiration) I just knew I had to write this. Though my plot bunny is taking a few detours, so I have no idea at the moment where this story is going to end up. Anywho…thanks, Joss, for throwing in the "potential" for Dawnie and the Xand-man to have a relationship! Heehee…I crack myself up. Get it? Potential? Ahem, let's just move on, shall we?

Disclaimer: I own it all! Yes, I created Buffy! Damn you Joss for stealing my brain and giving me yours! Damn you! Just kidding. This is all the super genius Joss Whedon's.

Dawn felt his eyes on her, never leaving her for a moment. Why was he still standing there? She looked over her shoulder and up at Xander. "What's up?"

Xander watched her for a couple more seconds before walking into the room and towards her. He stopped in front of the table she was working at. "Aw, I'm just thinking about the girls. It's a harsh gig being a potential. Just being picked out of a crowd, danger, destiny. Plus, if you act now, death!" He grinned at this, trying to cheer Dawnie up. He had noticed that ever since she had realized that she, in fact, was not a potential. It had hit her hard. He just wasn't sure if it was because of the disappointment or the fact that she hadn't liked the idea in the first place. She was tough, though, and her answer didn't falter, even if she couldn't look him in the eyes when she said it.

"They can handle it." She wasn't envious of the other girls and their potential powers; she really didn't want to be a slayer. She was just feeling left out. She wouldn't do anything like she did last year to get attention, though. No, her klepto days were over. She figured she might as well be productive, though, and decided to help research 24/7 now. She didn't really think anyone had noticed, except maybe Willow who was grateful for not having so much work.

"Yeah," Xander answered, sitting down in a chair at the table. They're special, no doubt."

Dawn was trying to see how this was supposed to make her feel better. Or maybe it wasn't supposed to at all. What was he saying then? Was he in love with one of them? She was surprised to feel a twinge of jealousy pinch her heart. She quickly ignored her wandering thoughts and focused again on Xander.

"The amazing thing is, not one of them will ever know. Not even Buffy."

"Know what?" _That you're in love with maybe more than one of them!_

"How much harder it is for the rest of us." He wanted to make Dawn understand that, even though people didn't express it, they appreciated her help, and without it they wouldn't be where they were.

"Now way. They've got-"

"Seven years, Dawn," he began. Dawn heard the small bite in his voice. She knew he was about to reveal something personal and important to her. She could also sense the pain as he continued talking. "Working with the slayer. Seeing my friends get more and more powerful. A witch. A demon. Hell, I could fit Oz in my shaving kit, but come a full moon he had a wolfy mojo not to be messed with. Powerful. All of them. And I'm the guy who fixes the windows."

Dawn wasn't quite sure what to say. He wasn't just the guy who fixes the windows. Not to her, anyway. He was her best friend. He was the one that was always there for her when she was going through her bratty middle school years and the whole incident with Glory. But she didn't know how to say that. She just wanted to cheer him up. "Well, you had that sexy army training for a while. And-and the windows really did need fixing." _Great, smooth talking, Dawn._

Xander would not be deterred, though hearing Dawn call him sexy kinda caught him off guard, he decided to analyze in later. "I saw what you did last night."

Did he have to bring this up now? She was still embarrassed, and she blushed as she spoke. "Yeah, I…I guess I kinda lost my head when I thought I was the slayer."

"You thought you were all special; Miss Sunnydale 2003."

Oh God, he was going to tell her exactly how stupid she really was. She didn't know if she could handle it. She let him continue anyway.

"And the minute you found out you weren't, you handed the crown to Amanda without a moment's pause. You gave her your power."

Okay, that she wasn't expecting. What was he trying to say? She hated being praised like this. It always made her embarrassed, even though she was secretly thrilled that he was doing it. She shrugged and stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world (which it was in her mind), "the power wasn't mine."

"They'll never know how tough it is, Dawnie. To be the one who isn't chosen. To live so near the spotlight and never step in it. But I know. I see more than anybody realizes because nobody's watching me. I saw you last night. I see you working here today. You're not special."

Her stomach dropped through the floor, and she was pretty sure through the earth's crust as well.

"You're extraordinary."

Xander stood up from his chair, wanting so badly to kiss her gently on the lips to express his feelings. But in the back of his mind, he knew that kissing the slayer's little sister, who was still only sixteen, was probably a very bad idea. So, he settled for kissing her on the forehead. He walked away from the table and toward the door to collect his feelings. He needed to get away from her before he did something he'd regret, but a voice stopped him at the doorway.

Dawn couldn't believe all that he had just said to her. No one had ever told her that she was anything special, and here her best friend and her adolescent crush was telling her she was extraordinary. She had wanted to leap into his arms, tell him how much she appreciated him and everything he ever did for her and tell him she loved him. Whether as a friend or more, she wasn't sure yet. But did it really matter? He didn't see her in that way, anyway. She was the slayer's kid sister; it could never happen. But she appreciated him and his words, nonetheless. "Maybe that's your gift," she called after him as he reached the doorway.

Xander turned around, a bit confused. He was still upset, only just realizing everything he had told Dawnie was true moments before. "What?"

"Seeing. Knowing."

"Maybe it is," he said. At least someone thought he was important, because he certainly knew he wasn't. He tried to lighten the mood, though whether for Dawn's sake or his own he wasn't quite sure. "Maybe I should get a cape."

"Cape is good."

"Yeah," he said, leaving. He walked out in the hallway and leaned against the wall. "Maybe…"

A/N: Yeah, I couldn't exactly remember if Dawn was 15 or 16 then. I figured she probably had a birthday in between Season 6, when she was 15, and Season 7. If you know for a fact that she's 15 then, though, please tell me!


	2. A New Life

"_**Potential"**_

_**Chapter 2**_

Dawn glanced out the window, seeing the drab brick wall of another building. Okay, so it wasn't the most stimulating view, but she guessed that it had been set up that way to demote daydreaming. Pity, seeing that was what she longed to do at the moment. Looking back down at her paper, she realized that she really didn't want to work on her advanced calculus paper. She had lived through enough of it in high school. So, she decided to instead write down the properties of a simple truth revealing potion in the margins. Simple, but effective, like most of her spells and concoctions. Just because she wasn't working on her paper like she should didn't make her a bad student; from the moment she had stepped on campus at LeMoyne College she had worked harder than she ever had. After the little incident of her hometown being swallowed into hell, she had decided to move to New York, and found herself living in a little town called DeWitt. It was just a little quieter than a city, but not quite as lazy as the suburbs of Sunnydale; the perfect combination. Her apartment complex was a few blocks away from campus, but not an unmanageable distance to walk. And she would rather be doing that than sitting in the cold and sterile classroom.

As soon as she thought that, a bell rang through the halls and into the room. The young woman packed up her things into her rather large bag hurriedly and made her way for the door. Before she knew it, she was out of the building and breathing in the fresh spring air. Well, sort if. She learned while residing in Central New York that winter usually lasted well into what ought to be spring. After all, it was the second week of April and it had just snowed the day before. The winter had been nearly unbearable if merely for the fact that she was unaccustomed to temperatures lower than 50˚Fareinheit. One morning she had woken up with what she would have sworn were blue fingertips, and upon turning on the television she was greeted by the news that it was, in fact, 30˚ below zero. She thought that she must have been dreaming, but quickly realized she wasn't as soon as she stepped outside. She wore her coat and gloves for the rest of the day, but was forced to remove her hat.

Ever since then she had learned to dress for whatever this insane place had in store, and that meant that her new style could be summed up in one word: layers. And with most of her clothes currently residing in the underworld, she relied heavily upon the dear old Salvation Army, which she quickly learned was a common place for broke college students to go. Her entire wardrobe was either used or something she had gotten on clearance at the mall, but she had figured out that trivial things like that really didn't matter too much to her anymore. Her long hair has turned out to be more trouble than it was actually worth, so she cut and dyed it several times until she found a desired look; a cute, choppy, ear length do that was her natural chestnut. With her newfound lack of money, she found the need for a job. So she worked at store called Baby Alpaca in her local mall. The store was home to many exotic clothes, decorations, jewelry, and perfumes; she loved it. She often bought tapestries, beads, candles, and incense there. If she was lucky, she could sometimes afford some jewelry as well. The only reason that she could afford these items was because of her employee's discount, one of the perks of working at a cool store.

Even with her job, she barely scraped enough money to pay for her apartment, let alone food and clothing. And furniture. She had gone to a flea market one day, however, and found some cushions to sit on which now decorated the floor of her dining room/living room/kitchen space, it being one open area. She didn't own a TV, and couldn't have afforded cable even if she did. Numerous books lined the walls in stacks, and a single table sat in the center of the room. It was an unwanted tabletop, in actuality, that was propped up with a few castoff bricks. It was at the perfect height to eat at when sitting on the cushions. Her dishes, mainly bowls, came from her pottery class when she had extra time on her hands. She had gone to a 99 cent store and bought a single set of silverware. The room lit by candles she had gotten from work that offered her light. She couldn't pay the electricity bill, let alone afford lamps. But Dawn actually liked her apartment; she liked to think of it as bohemian, not primitive.

Stepping into her more-than-humble abode, she quickly plunked her backpack, shoes and keys next to the door after making use of the three locks; she may not live in Sunnydale anymore, but that didn't mean the end of demons and your run of the mill psychos. Falling rather ungracefully onto her pillowed floor, she picked up _Wuthering Heights_ for probably the millionth time and settled herself in for some one-on-one timewith Brontë.


End file.
